


Whiskey Inquiries

by annerly



Series: Whiskey Woes [2]
Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-04-07 14:25:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 15,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19086874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annerly/pseuds/annerly
Summary: A compilation of asks revolving around Whiskey from my Tumblr Page:https://annerly-san.tumblr.com/





	1. Whiskey & Cooking for his MA

[Whiskey’s more adept to creating potions, “medicines” and the like. Cooking is something entirely different, and I’ve already adopted my own headcanon that Whiskey is a shit ass cook-- as some of you may know from my Whiskey Woes series.]

 

“Master Attendant.”  
Whiskey stood in the doorway of his attendant’s chambers with a tray of hearty porridge and warm tea among other side dishes intended for a meal. His attendant sat in their bed scribbling in their notebook with a white cloth bandaged around their forehead.  
“Ah, Whiskey. Come in-” the greeting was interrupted by a series of coughs that shook their body.  
Whiskey entered and shut the door behind him; he came over to the bedside sitting the tray down before moving on to gently reprimand his attendant.  
“Master Attendant, you should be resting,” Whiskey chided as he took their book and pen away.  
His attendant showed him an frowning expression that hinted at contempt and annoyance.  
“I’ve already been confined to this bed because of you,” they gestured at the bed with wide sweeping motions. They sniffled a bit before continuing their rant. “And you expect me to just lie here for twenty four hours and do nothing?”  
Whiskey chucked. “Don’t phrase it like that, Master Attendant. I’ve brought your meal.” He reached for the bowl of porridge on the tray, carefully placing it in his attendant’s grasp.  
“...Is this poisoned…?,” his attendant muttered as they started to spoon up the soup to their lips.  
“Hehe… How mean of you, Master Attendant. I’ve made that myself,” Whiskey retorted.  
“AH-!” The first spoonful elicited a cry from his attendant. “H-HOT!”  
“Well, of course it’s hot. It’s porridge. Maybe you should blow on it before eating it?”  
“HOT AS IN SPICY, YOU DUMBASS!” His attendant coughed a little bit before glaring at their food souls with teary eyes. “WHY IS THIS SO SPICY? WHAT DID YOU PUT IN IT?!??! A BAG OF CHILIS?!”  
“Spicy things are meant to help with colds, Master Attendant.” Whiskey picked up the cup of “tea” that was on the tray and handed it to his attendant. “And it’s not chillies. It’s a Carolina Reaper. About 200 grams.”  
Had his attendant’s illness had not deprived them of strength, Whiskey would have been strangled to death by now.  
“Here, have some tea, Master Attendant.” Whiskey handed over the cup which his attendant hastily took and chugged without hesitation.  
“URGPHPPHH-” The gag was intense but paled in comparison to the effort to his attendant’s effort to not vomit all over their bed. “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!” was the first thing that sprung from their mouth as soon as the repression of their stomach contents was quelled.  
“Ginger tea with Whiskey~. Whiskey does help with cold symptoms, did you know~?”  
Whiskey was quite proud of his creation. The fact that his attendant didn’t seem to understand how careful he was in creating a meal that would cure his attendant of their cold was disheartening to him.  
“I already feel myself heating up inside… How much did you put in it-?”  
“Ah, just a shot.” Whiskey motioned pouring an entire bottle of his food counterpart into the kettle.  
The cup was flung at him. “YOU DUMBASS!” Whiskey dodged the cup with little effort. “ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?! I TRUSTED YOU WITH MY FOOD!”  
“Well, in my defense, I did say that you shouldn’t trust people like me~.” Whiskey sat up from the chair quickly in order to evade his attendant that had risen from their bed to unleash hell upon him. “But you do seem a lot better, Master Attendant~,” Whiskey mused as he grappled with his attendant in an effort to not get strangled.  
“WHAT?! How am I better if you’ve fed me ALL THIS SHIT?!”  
“Hehe~. Well for one, that cough has seemed to elude you.” Whiskey dodged an arm swung at his face. “And that sniffling of yours has also gone away~.”  
The act of strangling him was put on hold momentarily as his attendant stood there in thought as they attempted to feel any symptoms of their ailment.  
Alas there were done.  
But that didn’t deter them any in their efforts to strangle him to death.


	2. Whiskey on wearing his coat properly

-"Have you noticed that seemingly every single Food Soul who wears a coat can't seem to wear it properly? Fuck, even Whiskey can't seem to get it right, this man really is a disaster."

[For some reason, when I think of coats, I picture Champagne and Red Wine for some reason? And they seem to wear their coats properly.  
And it’s no surprise that Whiskey is a literal disaster. Disasters spring up in his footsteps. I think we can both agree on that, eh? (/ ‘з’)/   
Actually I’ve worn my trench coats like Whiskey sometimes when the inner chuunibyou comes out at odd times.  
So based on that logic, Whiskey might be a secret wanna-be villain by wearing his coat like that. ヾ(≧∇≦*)ゝ ]

 

“WHY?!”  
“I can guarantee that I’m not the one this time-” Whiskey retorted as he turned around upon hearing his attendant’s voice yell that one favorite word of his.  
“NO!” His attendant was flushed faced as they gestured with wide arms at his entire self. “WHY?!”  
“Hehe… Master Attendant, if you’re concerned about Pizza he’s safe in his room. Though I can’t say the same for Cassata-”  
“NO, YOUR FUCKING COAT!” his attendant motioned at him again before his earlier comment registered. “Wait, what did you do to Cassata-?”  
“Never mind what I said. That was a joke. Now, what was it about my coat?” Whiskey diverted the question elsewhere.  
“WHY ARE YOU WEARING IT LIKE THIS?!”  
“Like what?”  
“Why is it just perching on your shoulders?! Why aren’t your arms in the sleeves?! Do you not understand sleeves?!” They took a breath to regain some of their oxygen. “Are you trying to imitate some cheap-ass villain, wearing your coat like that?”  
“Why would I need to imitate them?” Whiskey scoffed. If he were to say that he was not moderately offended, he would be blatantly lying.  
“Then put your arms in the sleeves!”  
“Hehe~. No.” Whiskey stood resolutely with his arms crossed and free of his jacket sleeves.  
“WHY?!”  
“Goodness, have you no pride?” Whiskey heard a familiar voice mused behind him. Champagne. A surprise. The food soul had never bothered too much with Whiskey, so it was strange to see him get involved in Whiskey’s conversations and interactions aside from being placed in teams with him. “Our Master Attendant is asking of you to do such a simple thing…” Champagne shook his head disapprovingly.  
While Whiskey bore no ill will to his fellow alcoholic food soul in any way, he was now tempted to see how the both of them fared in a one on one battle to the death. The thought gave rise to a series of chuckles from him.  
“Red Wine, what do you think?” Whiskey was dragged out from his mental depiction of his dead comrade when his attendant posed the question to the second food soul which had made an appearance. It would seem that this would have to be a battle royale instead of a pvp fight.  
“The way that the jacket is worn isn’t bothering me as much as his pants…”  
Ah. Whiskey changed his mind. This was going to be purely homicide, not a fight anymore.  
While he was a tad distracted at plotting out the deaths of his fellow food souls, he let the motions of his attendant talking to the two of them slip through.  
Whiskey was suddenly ambushed by the two food souls and his attendant-- all three proceeding to try and shove his arm into his jacket sleeve.  
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING-?!” Whiskey pushed Champagne’s face as he attempted to pry the food soul off of him.  
What seemed like an eternity of struggling, dodging bullets, summoning snakes, avoiding sword strikes and feeling betrayed at his attendant bringing out their blade chop, both of Whiskey’s arms were rammed into his jacket sleeves.  
He felt terribly betrayed.  
“Ah, the jacket sleeves are poofing out!” His attendant pointed at the ruffled and bulged out sleeves of his jacket.  
He contemplated what would happen if he chopped off both his arms.  
“What? Oh!” Red Wine grabbed ahold of Whiskey’s arm and held it up higher for the other two to see. “The dress shirt is a bishop sleeve!”  
He retracted that earlier thought.  
Whiskey was going to lop off both Champagne’s and Red Wine’s arms and put them on display.  
“Oh, is that why you can’t wear your jacket sleeves?” His attendant was somewhat understanding. He could forgive that.  
“Why is your dress shirt a bishop sleeve?”  
The next time that he and Champagne go out on a mission together, one of them isn’t going to come back in one piece.  
“See? I said that the jacket was fine! It was those pants-”  
Red Wine he could easily kill in his sleep. Or better yet, simply get his more likable alcoholic food soul to wreak havoc upon Red Wine and Steak’s relations. Or both.  
Upon Champagne’s long hair having been haphazardly chopped up in the food soul’s sleep, Red Wine finding a mysterious strand of white hair on Steak’s bed-- leading to a very lengthy argument and fight spanning a week, and both offending food souls suffering from poison after a mysterious mark of two dots appearing on their arm, the topic of Whiskey’s fashion was no longer discussed.


	3. Whiskey teaching his MA to dance

There was no sight of #3 anywhere.  
#3 typically curled itself up on his bed. Of the five serpents that Whiskey kept for pets, #3 was the one that enjoyed human/food soul interaction the most. None of the five ever left his quarters.  
Ah. But he did recall that his door was slightly ajar when he came in. Whiskey normally had it shut tight.  
Did #3 escape?  
He hadn’t heard screaming around the house yet, so he supposed no one’s saw it.  
But if it wasn’t found soon, he was sure to get reprimanded for letting his serpents loose around the house.  
Whiskey took off in search of his #3.  
He briskly took peeks into the vacant rooms of food souls, and searched in various corners and inside furniture.  
It wasn’t until he heard soft, classical music coming from his attendant’s quarters did he began to have a growing suspicion of where #3 would be.  
He opened the door quickly and caught them red-handed.  
His attendant, mid-dance pose with his snake held in their outstretched arms, look embarrassedly flustered as they attempted to stammer incoherent excuses.  
Whiskey caught the words, ‘dance’, ‘practice’, ‘borrow’, and ‘social’.  
“So, you’re borrowing my #3 to practice dancing,” Whiskey mused as his flustered attendant stood there awkwardly with his pet python curled up in their arms.  
Whiskey took it upon himself to take the snake from his attendant’s arms.  
“I-I needed practice!” they pouted as their shoulders did a visible drop.  
“I’m free. Shall I help you in your practice?” Whiskey extended a hand towards them-- #3 slithered down and curled itself up on a nearby chair. “May I have this dance, Master Attendant?”  
A shaky hand was placed gingerly in his outstretched one.  
The lesson begun.  
“Oh! You’re a pretty good teacher, Whiskey! How are you so good at dancing?”  
“I’m flattered, Master Attendant. I’m glad that you think so,” Whiskey commented. “But I think you’d learn more from me if you wouldn’t use your hands to hang your entire body weight on my shoulders and step off of my feet…”  
His master attendant was practically squatted with both feet placed atop his and hands grabbing onto his as they tried not to fall off of him.  
“But I don’t know what to do-!”  
“How about standing up on the floor?”  
“BUT THEN I DON’T KNOW THE STEPS-”  
“Alright, how about-” Whiskey heaved them up, placing an arm around their waist to secure them. He felt the uncomfortable squirming and the warmth of embarrassment radiating from them. “Place your hand on my shoulder.”  
“This is weird~,” they whined as they shyly placed a timid hand on his shoulder.  
“Hehe~, you’ll get used to it, Master Attendant.”  
Eventually, they were coaxed off of his feet. And then they were able to learn a few steps. And then a few twirls. And then a full dance.  
“Hehe~, wonderful, Master Attendant,” Whiskey complimented as they took the lead on the next round of twirls. “Beautifully executed. We can say that you’ve mastered this.”  
“Oooh good~! ‘Cause I’m tired!” his attendant flopped down right onto the floor.  
“You did well~,” Whiskey mused as he took a seat next to them. “You’ll do great at the chef’s dance social tomorrow night, I’m sure.”  
“All thanks to you Whiskey! Thanks!” That cheerful face of theirs gave him a strange feeling inside his chest.  
More bewilderingly, the prospect of them going to dance with another made him… uncomfortable...  
The thought of his attendant dancing in such close proximity with another gave him a foul taste in his mouth.  
“Actually…” Whiskey laid down next to his attendant-- hand brushing a few strands of stray hair clinging to their perspiring forehead. “Why go to that social… when you can just stay here with me?”


	4. Whiskey as an art model

Whiskey knew when he was being watched.  
A discreet glance up from his book and right across the living room revealed the culprit as he spotted his attendant intently sketching into their notebook.  
His attendant had been taking art lessons with Hotdog as of late. The two of them would go around the town with their notebooks and supplies in hand, returning later covered in paint and charcoal.  
He felt their gaze on him off and on.  
Whiskey made sure to stay fairly still in his posture; he sat with a direct glance at his book whilst pondering in his own thoughts.  
He’d flip a page occasionally to not draw suspicion, but always returned his hand to the same spot that it had originally left from.  
He’d take quick glances at his attendant and muse about how happy they seemed to be.  
That’s good.  
If they were happy, then he’d be more than willing to be their subject.  
He wished that others felt the same sentiment as the image of golden hair and clear green eyes ran across his mind. A chuckle was elicited from him.  
His attendant must have finished their sketch. The strokes of charcoal against paper was much more intense; they probably arrived at the shading stage.  
Whiskey took this as an opportunity to approach his attendant quietly as their focus was intent on their work.  
“Admiring me in secret, are we?” He found his attendant’s screams to be quite adorable. “I’m flattered to be the subject of your piece.”  
The way that they clutched their drawing to their chest to hide it from his eyes sent a rush of glee running through him.  
“W-what? I-I wasn’t drawing you. I was drawing that… t-that plant next to you!”  
“Master Attendant, if you clutch your sketch to your shirt like that, you’re going to smear the charcoal on the paper~”  
“AH!”  
“Ooooh~. What a fine piece of work~.” The sketch was thankfully saved from the horrible fate of smudging. His attendant was a fine artist. Whiskey, though not well versed in the realm of arts, knew that the sketch exhibited the marks of a great artist.  
His attendant was flushed and mumbling incoherently.  
“I don’t mind being your model for future pieces, Master Attendant,” Whiskey remarked as he leaned back to give them some breathing space. “I’m delighted to be a subject of interest for your artistic endeavors.”  
He threw a devious smirk at them.  
“And I’m not opposed to nude modeling either~”  
He was promptly hit by a rogue eraser flung not moments later.


	5. Headcanons on a vampire Whiskey

  * Whiskey wasn’t sure when he started feeling strange
  * The light of the sun tingled and burned on his skin
    * Burning to the point where he would suffer from sunburn of the first degree despite standing in the sun’s exposure for less than a minute
  * The braised lamb that his attendant typically cooked for him was requested to be more and more rare
    * Which led to the point where it was straight up raw meat and even that didn’t satitate the unbearable craving he had, but could not pinpoint
  * An incident with his attendant in the kitchen was what led to his identification of his craving.
  * An accidental slip of the knife blade and a cut finger made him lose all senses
  * And he found himself with his attendant’s finger stuck in his mouth
  * The metalic taste of blood sent a rush of euphoria coursing through him
  * He was able to regain his senses before the amount of time that he was sucking on their index finger became concerning.
  * “That was quite clumsy of you, Master Attendant.  Please be more careful.”
  * He was careful as to not let any falteration in his voice slip through
  * He was caught off guard for once
  * Disappointing for him.
  * However, he now knew what his condition may be
  * Locking himself up in his room with scattered papers and flipping through books, he searched up on the mystical creature that was a vampire and what would cure one
  * He really had to get rid of this condition
  * He’d pose a risk to his attendant otherwise.
  * And now he can’t really do anything else but stay in the house
  * Letting his attendant leave to go do things in the sunlight without him
  * Almost… Infuriating...
  * Ah.  Why rifle through books trying to piece things together when he lived in so close proximity of one who exhibited a lot of the same symptoms as he?
  * Pizza could take a brief break for now...
  * Red Wine, though…
  * Hehehe~
  * Whiskey had the food soul tied up to the table and was more than delighted to see the similarities between their conditions and what he could potentially do to cure himself it
  * But that Steak found out
  * As if that hot-head thought he could stand a chance against Whiskey~
  * Hehehe~
  * “Ah.”
  * “Mary.  Hello~ Did you need something?”
  * “Why are you upset?”
  * “Did I bully your Steak too much?”
  * “My bad~”
  * “He intruded on my work”
  * “You can have him back now.  Hehehe~”
  * “Why do I have Red Wine tied up?”
  * “Well… truthfully…”
  * “Ah, I’m glad that you’ve told me that.”
  * Rip Steak.  He had three people out for his blood now
  * “I’m indebted to you, Mary.  Many thanks for that information.”
  * Well, Whiskey’s issue of sustenance through blood was resolved.
  * Back to experimenting on Red Wine~
  * Ah.
  * “Master Attendant.”
  * “It’s not what it looks like.”
  * “I’m not experimenting on Pizza this time.”
  * “Hehe~.  Why are you so upset with me~.  You never said anything about experimenting on Red Wine~”
  * Sad how he never got far with his experimenting
  * Nevertheless…
  * He had enough information to find a method of allowing himself to be invulnerable under the sun
  * But he was still dependant on blood for sustenance
  * His snakes would collect them from Steak while the latter was sleeping
  * But Whiskey wanted to be cured of this condition
  * If he couldn’t experiment on Red Wine…
  * He’d just experiment on himself
  * Hehe~  This works out perfectly~
  * Garlic… silver… A stake through the heart…
  * Food souls couldn’t die… but vampires would die of it…
  * Clearly, if he’d simply stake himself with a silver stake covered in freshly minced garlic… that should cure him of this condition
  * Whiskey felt pain before
  * But never this much pain
  * “I-It… must be… w-working... if it h-hurts so m-much…”
  * Whiskey wasn’t sure if it worked.
  * But he did lose consciousness
  * And he woke up to his angry attendant who had just melt and molded him back to life apparently.
  * Oops
  * “My bad~”
  * “I understand that you’re upset-”
  * “Ouch.”
  * “That… hurt…”
  * While some do attest to having a very slappable face…
  * This was the first time he’d been slapped, admittedly.
  * He was used to people crying
  * In fact, he revelled in people’s misery
  * But his attendant’s misery was different
  * For once, he felt embarrassed
  * Since there were many onlooking food souls
  * Spaghetti, if you don’t wipe that look off your face, you won’t have a face anymore
  * Bloody Mary, I owed you that one time… Not killing you right now is paying it off…
  * Everyone else is going to die for sure
  * “I’d like to request everyone to spare me a few moments with my attendant… Alone…”
  * Whiskey had a tendency to be a bit impatient
  * Any food souls that didn’t get out of his room fast enough was sent flying out from the sheer force of his skill attack
  * “Master Attendant… please stop crying over someone like me…”
  * “Perhaps I’ve been keeping something from you…”
  * “What?  No. Not ‘again’.  Since when have I-?”
  * “Ah.  But that’s-”
  * “Alright, alright.  I get it.”
  * It was a long conversation
  * He couldn’t leave parts out
  * His attendant was too sharp for that
  * They asked and inquired
  * Even threatening him with a blade chop
  * How cute~
  * But it was interesting
  * They still accepted him
  * Even offering themselves as a source of food
  * Adorable~
  * At least they’re not upset anymore~
  * He was quite at peace
  * In fact… extremely happy…
  * Perhaps this was the answer he searched for…
  * Vampires… can transfer their conditions to others….
  * Hehehe…
  * His search to find a method to impart immortality had come to a close.  Finally...
  * “Once I’ve dragged you into the darkness… only then can I live with you feeling that ease~”
  * “Yes, I know I keep saying that~”  
  * “We’re that close~.”
  * “It’s not creepy, what are you talking about~?”
  * “Hehehe…  I’m not plotting anything, I swear~”




	6. Whiskey & Small Animals

“Master Attendant, this is-?”

“Sanma’s cat!”

Whiskey sat awkwardly with the calico kitten tucked awkwardly in his lap. The kitten, clearly frightened by Whiskey, had its ears tucked backwards and its back arched.

“Why aren’t you holding it? Hold it~. It’s so cute and wants to be held~.”

The cat clearly did not wished to be held by Whiskey.

As soon as Whiskey moved his arm slightly, the cat made a dash for it– vanishing out of sight within half a second; Whiskey was effectively left sitting on the ground in the center of the room alone.

“Huh. Maybe cats don’t like you? If not cats-” Whiskey was already mentally preparing himself for a very long day. “Then rats!”

His attendant disappeared for a few moments before running back into the room with Bamboo Rice’s two rats.

Big Ah and Little Ah seemed to be content in his attendant’s arms; however, upon seeing Whiskey they started to squeak and squirm like mad.

His master attendant didn’t even get the chance to place the both of them near him as the two rodents managed to weasel out of his attendant’s arms and out the door.

But these series of events didn’t seem to deter his attendant. And of course neither did the following series of occurrences.

A puppy placed in front of him whimpered and cried.

Peking Duck’s little ducklings quacked and hastily wobbled away from him.

Andre, Vodka’s bird, engaged in a staring contest with him ensuring that there was a very good distance between the both of them before taking off.

It wasn’t as though he made any attempts to hurt any of the animals that he encountered. Perhaps it was a hidden intuition that deterred them away. Whiskey chucked at the prospect.

“Why does no one like you?” His attendant pondered aloud.

“Hehe… Now, that’s awfully mean of you to say, Master Attendant~,” Whiskey chortled. “I haven’t even done anything yet~.”

“Puuuuu-… I wanted to see you with a small, cute animal or somethin’…” his attendant said sulkily.

“Mmm? Small, cute animal?” Whiskey laughed as he gave his suggestion. “What about Pizza-”

“Absolutely not, you heathen.”

“Aw~. How mean of you~,” Whiskey pouted playfully as he watched his attendant storm off for the tenth time that hour.

Whiskey was about to get up when his attendant came running back into the room– wide eyed and sweaty– holding a rattlesnake by the neck in a pair of tongs.

“Master Attendant, that’s dangerous-!” He was about to stand up and remove the dangerous animal from his attendant when they did him the favor of running over to him themselves.

And then they hastily placed it in his lap.

Of course they did.

What he was he expecting?

The snake was already shaking its tail with such force that the rattle might accidentally fling off– biologically impossible, but still.

It turned its head to face him with its body reared high in position to strike.

At the very least, food souls weren’t able to die. Whiskey might be out for a couple of days though.

But instead of striking as Whiskey thought it would, it wound itself up and nestled against his body– lower half wrapped around part of his leg.

Interesting.

“Ah-! A-awwww~~~!” Whiskey’s surprise at the snake was interrupted by his attendant’s voice. “S-so-! So cuuuuuuuteee~!!!” his attendant gushed at the sight of him and the rattlesnake being so close with one another.

Whiskey knew that he had an affinity with serpentine beings, but not to this extent. It was an interesting experiment. However…

“Master Attendant, you can’t just find rattlesnakes and throw them at people.”

“Ah, true. But I threw it at you though.”

Whiskey simply patted the rattlesnake on the head and simply chose to not say anything.


	7. Whiskey reacting to his MA wearing his long coat

**[pinro24](https://pinro24.tumblr.com/) asked: Whisky seeing his MA in his overly large coat? 👀**

Whiskey felt that something was amiss when he couldn’t find his coat.

He looked around his room– checking the bed, the closet, desk area, and everywhere for it– to no avail

Strange.

He never misplaced things.

If something went missing, that would typically mean-

“Yo, Whiskey.”  He heard the culprit’s voice from the door.  “Wanna… buy some seasonings?”

Lo and behold.  His Master Attendant.

They leaned against the doorway, draped in his black jacket.  As it was typically a full-length jacket for him, it draped over them and pooled at their feet slightly.

They grabbed one side of his coat and in one fell motion, flashed him with the inside of his coat.

And in the unveiled coat were bags of minced garlic, basil, sugar, salt, pepper and other miscellaneous seasonings taped to the inside.

“Twenty per bag.  I might even throw in a discount if you know the secret code.”

Whiskey chuckled to himself as he approached them.

“There’s actually a twenty in the inner pocket on the right side-”

“OOH?!  WHERE?  I LOST ALL MY MONEY SUMMONING YOU-”

Whiskey took the opportunity of his distracted attendant to grab them under the arms and hoist them into the air.

His coat was dangling a few centimeters above the floor, and his attendant was squealing and squirming about – it was more screaming and flailing, but same difference.

It wasn’t until he had a few moments of watching them helplessly thrash around in the air that he noticed how peculiar they looked in his overcoat.  It almost looked-

“Cute.”

“Eh?”  His attendant stopped squirming.  “What’d you say?”

“Cute.  You look cute in my coat.”

His attendant’s face grew flushed as they somehow managed to free themselves of his grasp.  Upon their feet hitting the solid ground, they flung off his coat– seasoning packets still attached– before taking off running out of his room and down the hall.

“Hehe… Master Attendant~!  Are you simply handing your goods over free of charge?” Whiskey called out after them.  Unfortunately, they had already taken off out of range for him to be heard.

That was fine.  They’d be back after all.  And he wouldn’t be opposed if they were to try and wear his coat again.  He’d just know where to find it from now on.


	8. Whiskey & Perfume Shopping

**[pinro24](https://pinro24.tumblr.com/) asked: (Sorry if I’m asking too much questions I love your work 😔👊) whisky choosing a type of perfume with his master attendant ?**

[Yayyy thankyy.  Don’t ever feel like you’re asking me too many questions!  I love them and they help with my writing as they give me an idea to write off of. ]

[As some of you may know, Whiskey is really aromatic. The drink has its own very unique scent that people enjoy when they drink it. Additionally, perfumes and other scents can damper the taste of foods as scent is a key factor in how you taste things. So for Whiskey, a very aromatic drink, perfumes and whatnots tend to hinder his own notes.  As a result, Whiskey is very sensitive to perfumes and artificial fragrances, and it gives him a headache among other things.]

“Whiskey, what about this one?”

Whiskey took a waft of the slip of card stock that was ridden with the scent of a strong jasmine with a underlying oak note.

“It suits you, Master Attendant.”

His attendant hummed contently as they wrote the name of the fragrance down on the slip before tucking it into their pocket.

As they walked down the aisle of numerous perfumes refracting the shop lights in their colorful glass bottles, his attendant grabbed ahold of a light pink bottle that caught their attention. Grabbing a fragrance card and proceeding to spray the perfume on it, they took a quick waft before handing it over to whiskey for evaluation.

The scent was sickening. It was overly sweet with a disarray of high floral notes clashing with one another for dominance.  Whiskey felt an impending headache.

“Perhaps… not this one…”

The next bottle that his attendant picked up as not as bad, but it did not alleviate the headache that was building within his cranium– only serving to worsen its severity.

“Spice with a scent of musk and maple.  It’s not too bad.  It doesn’t really suit you though…”

He watched hazily has his attendant set that bottle down and went on the search for another one.

He wasn’t sure how many bottles that they evaluated, but he was beginning to become overwhelmed by the various scents to the point where they all became rancid to him.

“Hurgh-”

Whiskey had a large tolerance for things, but standing in an aisle of overwhelming fragrances was not one of his stronger traits.  

“Whiskey?!”

It was unclear as to whether it was his pale complexion, his wobbling body or the fact that he had dizzily collided into one of the shelves that had alerted his attendant’s attention.

Regardless, the two were out of the shop much to Whiskey’s relief.

He was semi-leaning onto his attendant’s shoulder as he was much to dizzy to take any stable steps of his own.  He felt an underlying frustration to be this inept in front of them.

His thoughts were interrupted by his attendant’s commentary.  “Whiskey, what cologne are you wearing?”

“Hmm?  Cologne?”

“Yes, you smell nice!  I really like it!”

“I am not wearing any.”

His attendant tilted their head in moderate confusion.

“What do you mean that you’re not wearing any?”

Whiskey displaced the arm that his attendant had around his torso and stood up on his own.

“I am not wearing any cologne.”

His attendant stood there pondering for a bit before starting to rub the inside of their wrists against his neck.

“Master Attendant, what are you-”

They sniffed their arm before giving a hum of glee.  “Perfect!”

He wasn’t sure what to feel at the prospect of his attendant using himself as their body perfume.

But at the very least, they wouldn’t have to go through the motions of spraying on perfume on themselves in the morning.  Afterall, several hours in bed each night with him will surely get the job done.


	9. Whiskey reacting to a Fallen getting too close to his MA

**[pinro24](https://pinro24.tumblr.com/) asked: Whisky’s reaction to MA getting oddly close to a fallen angel?**

He, like all the other food souls his attendant had, was almost scared to death when he saw his attendant curled up comfortably in the arms of the Tsuchigumo that often frequented the backyard.

Before having the chance to obliterate it for laying its hands on his attendant, he was called to stop by the various food souls that had appeared behind him.

“What are you doing?!  Our Attendant is in danger-” he pulled himself from Caviar’s grasp with an impending panic laying on his mind.  He never raised his voice.  And he never showed any signs of emotions.  But just this once, he fell from character.  “I cannot afford to lose them again!”  He made a swing at Crab Bao Long who lost his grip on Whiskey’s other hand.  “Now out of my way!”

Despite having the main team deployed to subdue him, he didn’t really calm down until his attendant had noticed the quarrel and headed over to reassure him of their safety.

The other food souls had left the two of them alone to have the same discussion that was held with any other food soul that had encountered the same situation.

“Ah.  So it doesn’t hurt you?  Are you certain?”

“Yes, Whiskey.  I’m fine.  See?”

Whiskey watched as his attendant patted the Tsuchigumo on one of its many arms before it climbed back over the fence and disappeared into the forest.

The two of them stood there in momentary silence as they stared into the darkness of the forest that the fallen had disappeared into.

“So… if I became a Fallen one day… would you run?” Whiskey was hesitant in asking the question, but it came out of him nonetheless.

“Of course not.”

“Heh, I see…”  There was an odd satisfaction with that answer.  A weight that he had not known to be there that was lifted from his chest.

If the day comes when he falls from the transfer of his own dream energy to his attendant so that they may have the rest of eternity together, at the very least when that day came, he knows that his attendant would not leave him again.


	10. Whiskey & Outfit Shopping

**Quiz Link:**   <https://www.quotev.com/quiz/11916910/A-Lifetime-of>

 

 **[akari-yuki](https://akari-yuki.tumblr.com/) asked: **Whiskey reacting to the outfits you could choose for him in your quiz. (Like the doctors outfit or the Orochimaru cosplay haha) I am curious about this since I took your quiz

[Whiskey really has no qualms about anything that his attendant wants him to wear.  Though he does sometimes question their choices in fashion and mental health for sure.]

“Whiskey!”  Whiskey turned around at the call of his name.  His Master Attendant was eagerly bounding towards him waving an ecstatic arm in the air.  “Whiskey, let’s go shopping!”

Of course, he would never deny a request from his dearest attendant no matter how obscure things got, and this one seems simple enough.  At least that was what he thought when he originally agreed.  He had thought that the shopping was meant for his attendant.  No.  He was wrong.  They were shopping for his clothes.

And there he was, stuck in the fitting room with five outfits to try on for their viewing pleasure.  And all five were outfits that made no sense to him.

The first was an all-blue medical outfit with a white robe and a stethoscope.  A doctor’s outfit.  Whiskey let out a soft sigh as he began to change out of his usual attire for the new one.

Despite having told his attendant that he was no doctor– he was simply a mere business man– they chose to not listen.

“Alright, doc.  What’s the diagnosis?”

He stepped out of the fitting room and saw his attendant’s approving nod.

He sighed a little.  “As I’ve told you before, Master Attendant.  I am no doctor.  I am but a humble business man.”

“Puuu-” his attendant pouted at his inability to play along.  “It looks good though~.”

“If you insist, Master Attendant.”

“Oh!  Oh!  Say and do something that a doctor would do!”  They clapped their hands eagerly and bounced up and down on their feet.

If that would make his attendant happy, Whiskey would oblige.  He took the stethoscope to his ears and placed the end on his attendant’s chest– looking at them intently.

“Master Attendant.  Your heart rate seems elevated.”  He leaned in close and brushed a hand on their forehead.  “Shall I examine you more closely?”

There was an unhuman squeal that drew the attention of several shoppers.

“Ahahahaha!  Next one!”

Ah, the things that he puts up with for his attendant…

The next one was an outfit that was very reminiscent for Whiskey.  A magician’s outfit.  He pondered about how his attendant had known if they actually did pick this one out intentionally.

“Uncanny!” was their commentary.  “Next!”

The following outfit confused him greatly.

The top was a white dress shirt and black blazer, but the bottom was a vibrant plaid skirt and a strange looking bag with reeds sticking out of it.

This one took Whiskey awhile to get into.

Upon leaving the fitting room to show his attendant, he was simply met with breathless laughter as his attendant rolled around and hit the floor for several minutes nonstop.  He had excused himself to try on the next outfit by minute fifteen.

The next outfit was the one that Whiskey enjoyed the most.  It was a simple burgundy robe that was meant to imitate a snake.  The hood of the robe had two eyes on either side that was meant to be snake eyes.  It was quite comfortable and he would be willing to make his point in getting this one in comparison to the other outfits.  If it wasn’t chosen, he’d come back and get it himself.

It was also the most promising one since upon leaving the room for his attendant’s evaluation, they had immediately snuggled up and hugged him telling him about how cute he looked in it.

That did… put a smile on his face.

And the last one was… an apron.

Whiskey searched for the other items that his attendant had chosen for him to wear underneath it to no avail.

Was this it?

Was this the entire outfit?

He had known that his attendant sometimes did pick out strange outfits.  Brownie’s outfit for instance was a maid’s costume with cat ears.  And considering the last couple of outfits picked out, they seemed to have a theme to them.

“My house husbento~.  Where are you at?”

Ah.  He understood now.

Whiskey opened the fitting room door to show his outfit to his attendant.

“Hehe… Welcome home, Master Attendant~.  I’ve made pizza for dinner.  Or would you rather have me instead?”

He had never seen someone scream and lose so much blood from a nosebleed before.

Needless to say, the both of them walked out the store with an interesting purchase of a single apron.


	11. Whiskey & Kids

**[pinro24](https://pinro24.tumblr.com/) asked: Whisky reacting to kids? (it can be whisky’s and MA ‘s child if you want 👀)**

[Not sure if you wanted these answers in a story-format, but let me know what you think.  I’ll play these into both scenarios– general kids and his kid]

Whiskey felt something bump against his leg.

He looked down to see the embodiment of all the traits that disgusted him the most in this world.  A child.

Warm and squishy it was, as it clutched onto the leg of his pants, hand stuck into its mouth with spools of saliva running down its arms.  It was truly a disgusting creature.  He had to withhold the urge to kick it into the void.  Perhaps Caviar can then occupy himself with trying to find the creature.  Whiskey chuckled at the thought.

“Oh my goodness!  I’m so sorry!” he was interrupted from his thoughts when he heard someone call out; a lady came rushing towards him.  “Come here, don’t do that!  Oh my gosh, I’m sorry!”  Scooping up the child in her arms, she bowed profusely in apology to Whiskey.

“No, not at all,” Whiskey replied with a smile.  A lie. “He’s rather… cute…”  Whiskey met eye contact with the child, who immediately tensed up and started to wail loudly.  Whiskey couldn’t help but laugh as the mother ushered her child away.

“Did you make that poor kid cry?”

Whiskey turned towards the source of the voice.  “Not at all, Master Attendant.  I can guarantee that I’m not responsible for that.”

He couldn’t resist the tug at the corner of his lips as he witnessed the look of sheer disgust his attendant gave him.

“He saw through you, that’s why.”

“Got me there, Master Attendant~.”

The two of them watched the little creatures run around the park with the oversight of their parents.

“Whiskey, I have something to confess.”

“Hmm?” he turned around to look at his attendant—who was interestingly flustered without any provocation from him.

“I’m with child.”

“Ah, congratulations Master Attendant.”  He gave them a polite smile and a slight nod of understanding.

Their gaze was still strangely focused on him.  

“Whiskey.  It’s yours.”

Whiskey tensed up.

That shouldn’t be possible.

“Master Attendant, I think you’re mistaken-“

“No, I’m not.”

Whiskey didn’t look at them at all, but he felt their intense gaze on the side of his face; it was a burning sensation.  

“Hehe… Master Attendant… I’m confident in that you’re mistaken in appointing me as the parent of this unborn creature.”  He still felt a piercing gaze on the side of his face.  It was unnerving.  “I will of course, assist you in the care of this creature and provide both of you everything that I can afford to do-“

Despite not saying a word, he felt that his attendant was still not budging on their claim.

He finally turned his head and made eye contact with them before feeling an impending panic well up in him despite being fairly resolute in his own claim.  “A food soul and a human cannot conceive a child.”

“Whiskey, you’ve been the only one-“

“H-Hehe…”  That laugh was uncharacteristic of him.  He realized that as it came out as an attempt to deter the claims his attendant was staking against him.  “L-let us go home.  If you’re with child, it’s not good for your health to be putting excessive strain upon your body.”

“Whiskey-“

He immediately took their hand and intently headed for their home.

Throughout the several months that took place, he was everywhere from tending to his attendant’s increasingly strange food requirements, sitting down and getting lectured by Peking Duck about taking care of children, dealing with Gyoza’s and Squirrel Fish’s pestering, and researching all about the relationships between food souls and humans and whether or not conception between the two were even possible.

Even when it came out, he still was certain that it wasn’t his.

Even though it had the same marking under its right crimson eye, he was still absolutely convinced that he wasn’t the one that had played a part into making the child.

“Perhaps it’s because the pledge contract between humans and food souls transfer over to the offspring-“

He barely missed the bullets that both Black Tea, Cornbread and Champagne all fired at him.

But in all honesty, that child could never be his.

Holding it as his master attendant rested, it cooed at him and grabbed his hand with its squishy little ones.  Such a pure being could never be a byproduct of himself.  It was his master attendant’s for sure.  Aside from being the one to carry and deliver the child, he saw the character traits of his attendant in their little one.

However, this original impression lasted for a single hour.  Whatever light and pureness of his attendant the creature held was nowhere to be seen.  With the unfolding events, he could almost believe the claim that this was his child.  The child-  No. The demon was wreaking havoc upon the household.

The child wailed, screamed and fussed at some mysterious force.  Its shriek was ear-piercing and nearly caused half of the food souls in the house to go deaf.  It then proceeded to vomit all over him and soil its diaper which had such a putrid smell that even Whiskey was gagging.

“Just rock them back and forth-“

Whiskey proceeded to shake the child vigorously like a barista making a fine cocktail.

“WHISKEY NO-“

He finally managed to calm the child down an hour later.  But by then as he was rocking the crib gently back and forth to sedate the menacing demon, he was completely exhausted, covered in vomit and at his wits end.  His master attendant was still sleeping soundly, so that was a good thing for Whiskey.

If this hadn’t been his attendant’s child, he would have tossed it into the forest so that the Fallens could take care of it.  He couldn’t even expend the energy to laugh at the thought.

As the child grew older and he had to worry less about the wailing and byproducts of the menace, it became slightly more tolerable.  Of course, he never showed his attendant his distain at the creature.

In fact, the little bugger was starting to become a point of amusement for him.

“Dada!”  Whiskey averted his focus from the book he was reading to the child that had given him the call.  At this point he had stopped bothering with correcting the child; aside from the fact that everyone made a fuss when he tried to tell the child that he wasn’t ‘Dada’.

The child wandered over to him with one of his serpents curled up in their arms.

“Oh wow.  You’ve got one of my snakes, don’t you?”  Oddly enough, the child had an affinity for his serpentine pets.  He bent down and pat the child’s head.  “Good job.”

Whiskey had to be extremely careful of how he acted around the child.  According to his Master Attendant, the child would ‘learn’ from him by imitating anything that he does.

But that wasn’t true.

He never taught the child to chase Pizza around with a scalpel, or at the very least, he never did such thing in front of them.

The child crawled onto his lap, sitting down and stroking the serpent’s head.  Whiskey wrapped an arm around them to prevent any falling from taking place.

“Hmm?”  There was a note of alcohol around them.  “Did you get in the liquor cabinet?”  He sniffed their head, a strange thing to do admittedly, but he caught a waft of… whiskey.

His thoughts were interrupted when his favorite food soul was seen walking by the open door in the hallway.

“Pizza!” the child squealed as they ran towards the blonde food soul.  Pizza, though eyeing Whiskey suspiciously, knew that the latter food soul wouldn’t do anything to him as per the rules of not ‘teaching the child to do bad things’.

But alas, the blonde food soul was moderately traumatized by the scalpel chasing incident and was beginning to hastily make a fair distance between himself and the child.

“Piiiiiizaaaaa!”  The child tripped and fell.  Whiskey stood up immediately to help the child up as Pizza seized the moment to distance himself from “parent” and child.

“Nooo, Pizza!” the child outstretched a hand towards the escaping food soul when two large shadowy snakes came bursting out of their hand, hitting the side of the hall and effectively scaring Pizza enough to knock him over.

Both Whiskey and Pizza froze as they stared at the giggling child that had now stood up and was already advancing towards Pizza with a menacing grin on their face.

Whiskey scooped them up before they could unleased whatever wrath they had planned on the blonde food soul.

“Dada!”  The child giggled in delight as they wrapped an arm around his neck.  They pointed at Pizza who looked absolutely horrified and concerned for his wellbeing.  “Pizza!  Pizza!”

Whiskey must have been sporting a horribly frightening grin on his face as Pizza took off screaming for dear life.

“Hehehehe…”  Whiskey started to laugh much to his child’s delight.  “Yes…  That’s Pizza. Let’s play a game later with him…  Shall we?”

His child clapped their hands in delight and squealed happily.  “For now… do you want to read a book with Dada?”

“Dada!”

The corners of his lips lifted into a smile.  “Yes. Dada.”  

He shifted them a little more comfortably in his arms as he carried them back to his room to read a bedtime fairy tale.


	12. Whiskey & Onesies

**[pinro24](https://pinro24.tumblr.com/) asked: How would whisky react if master attendant asked him to wear an onesie ?**

[He’s not opposed to it, but simply agreeing to it without qualms is against his nature]

“You want me to… wear this?”

Whiskey held up a black onesie with little brown snakes all over the pattern; his master attendant was grinning ear to ear.

They had entered into his quarters whilst he was in the middle of reading in order to show him their creation.

“Yes!  I made it for you myself!  Spaghetti and Bloody Mary also have one!”

Now that it was mentioned, he did see Bloody Mary prancing around Steak in a strange-looking pajama and Spaghetti was secluded in his room– refusing to be seen by anyone.

This was clearly an attempt to embarrass him.

How cute.  
While he would do anything in the world to satisfy his attendant’s need, nothing is ever quite amusing without a struggle of some kind.

“I’m flattered, Master Attendant.  To have you think of me and expend your hard work for my sake… I’m quite flattered.”  He goaded over his words in an exaggerated matter.  “Any reasoning behind this?”

“Because you’ll look cute in it~!” their words were of a half-truth.  The other half was because they wished to revel in his uncharacteristic appearance.

“I’ll look cute in it?”

“Yes~!”  Their eager expression stroke a chord of delight in his chest.

He leaned forward towards them, bending down slightly with the onesie held up in his left hand as he met their eye level.  “So you’re saying that I don’t look cute right now?”

“Wha-?”

He leaned forward towards them.  “Hmmm?”

“N-no, I don’t mean that-”

The little quiver of their shoulders betrayed their lack of initial boldness; the shaking of their voice unveiled the panic in their tone.   He placed the onesie on the back of his chair as he took of his jacket and started to unbutton the top of his dress shirt.

“Then…what are you meaning to say?”  Whiskey drew more closer, each additional step he took illicit a step back from his attendant.  “Tell me, Master Attendant.  I’m curious.”

“Ah-”  The panic was evident now as his attendant took even a greater step back before.  If that was regret that was being reflected in their eyes, then Whiskey would be absolutely thrilled.  He would almost consider the prospect of letting them go.

The charade of advancement and retreat continued until he heard a small gasp that his attendant let out from being backed up against his bed.  Without sparing a moment, he brushed a hand against the side of their face; the act scaring his attendant enough for them to collapse onto his bed.

He saw those frantic eyes dart towards the door before the lock effectively clicked shut as he commanded.  Having them run on him now would simply ruin the fun, and having the minimal risk of interruptions would always serve him well.

Whiskey couldn’t keep the smile creeping up onto his face as he proceeded to lean himself over them with a hand taking a hold of their wrist to dissuade any attempts of escape.

“Now…Why simply put something on when it’s going to be taken off anyways?”


	13. Whiskey & Driving

**[pinro24](https://pinro24.tumblr.com/) asked: Whisky driving?**

[Whiskey’s surprisingly a good driver– a safe one.  He abides by the laws of traffic and takes a lot of caution when maneuvering the vehicle with his Master Attendant in it.  Surprisingly, he’s also the type of person to not use his horn in traffic as he believes it to be unnecessary trouble.  But that doesn’t mean that he’s completely immune to incidents that happen beyond his control.]

* * *

“WOAH-!”  The vehicle slowed down a little bit as Whiskey hit the breaks in order to allow ample room for the car that had cut them off.  “That guy just cut us off!  Honk at him!  Honk at hiiiiiim!!!”

Whiskey let out a soft chuckle, but did nothing else to retaliate against the offending driver.  They both witnessed the reckless driver dart back and forth between the lanes of traffic.

His Master Attendant was clearly displeased; Whiskey knew.

“YOU SHOULD HAVE HONKED AT HIIIIM!!!”  His Master Attendant wailed in exasperation as they sunk lower into the seat of the car.  “SOMEONE’S GOTTA STOP AND TEACH THESE PEOPLE A LESSOOOOON!”

“Worry not, Master Attendant.”  He was still focused on the road as he spoke– eyes never once straying from his focus.  “In this world, there always exists a law to maintain balance.  Such reckless driving will not go without consequence.”

He was still able to see his Master Attendant sulking from his peripheral vision.

“More than half the time, reckless people like that are the ones that get the innocent killed…” they muttered to themselves as they looked out from the side window.

Whiskey said nothing in response; his attendant had a point.  It was an unfortunate point that he knew all too well.

The thought had actually distracted him slightly as the aforementioned reckless car darted right in front of them without leaving any clearance.

The impact of the collision jolted the both of them to the side.  Aside from the hurt emotional state and the body of the car, the two of them were alright.

“Are you alright, Master Attendant-”

“HE’S DRIVING AWAY!  WHISKEY!!!”

Indeed the vehicle was backing up and trying to maneuver itself out and away from the mess that it had made.

But it did not get far.

From the shadow of the car’s underside came two towering black serpents which flew from the ground with such force that it flipped the offending car several feet into the car; said serpents than wrapped around the side before spiraling down with immense force into the center of the driver’s seat– crimson droplets came splattering out of the sides of the bashed-in car.

The two of them stared at the scene in silence with very differing expressions.

“Whiskey-”

“Like I said earlier, Master Attendant,” he turned his head slightly before starting the vehicle back up in preparation to drive away.  “This world is ruled by a law of balance.  Nothing is without a consequence.”

Needless to say, the rest of the car ride was driven in silence.


	14. Whiskey playing Dance Dance Revolution with his Attendant and Jello

**[pinro24](https://pinro24.tumblr.com/) asked: (This is kinda Random) whisky’s reaction to MA playing just dance with jello then inviting whisky along (lets see his dancing skills👀)**

[I haven’t played Just Dance, so there’s going to be a lot of things I’m not going to get right.  So instead of pretending and writing about something that I have no idea about, I’m going to write about the Dance Dance Revolution.  Just played a similar version in the arcade in my new relocation and went on it for the first time.

Also will be a continuation of the previous ask – Whiskey teaching his MA to dance.  Because that’s gonna be funny.

Sorry it took so long to answer.  I was debating for a very long time if I wanted Whiskey to fail at this or be really good at the game.]

“Ahaha!  Master Attendant, you’re offbeat!” Jello’s long pigtails waved about as she perfectly hit the dance pads in correspondence with the screen’s directions.

Her attendant, however, was struggling immensely.

A foot was stomped down haphazardly and offbeat.  A strange, warped split was done.  Hands were thrown about, not for the sake of dance, but rather for retaining what little balance there was left.

The song ended with Jello scoring an S rank and her master attendant with a solid F.

“W-what the heck…?”

“I’m here to support you!”  Jello didn’t hesitate to already start her search for the next song to dance to.

“J-jello that’s not helping…”  If the lack of breath and the fact that her attendant was pretty much clinging to the railing for support didn’t register any bit of attention from Jello, it certainly did from a wandering food soul in search of a certain individual.

“Ah, Master Attendant?”

“OOOP-”  They were standing up straight within a few seconds trying their best despite being flushed-face and out of breath to look as though they were not mentally and physically torn down by a mere arcade dancing game.  “Ahaha!  Hello, Whiskey!”

“Admittedly, Master Attendant, this is a very sad sight to see…”

“Whiskey, ya fuckin’ bastard…”

“Did our lessons truly did not carry over?  I feel as though it’s my responsibility for your… current predicament…”

Whiskey was promptly grabbed by his coat and threatened.

“Alright, hot shit.  You try.”

Whiskey simply smiled, freed himself of his attendant’s hold and took off his coat to place on the railing.  “How does this work?” he asked.

“Y-you step o-on the buttons when it p-pops up on s-screen…”  Jello stammered.

“Whiskey, you bastard.  You’re scaring Jello.  Jello, don’t be scared.  That’s just a pretentious bastard.”

“Hehe~.  How mean of you, Master Attendant~,” Whiskey chuckled as he fiddled around with the buttons before selecting a song.

The music started.

Whiskey, not moving too much, missed a few of the first couple of beats that came his way as he missed the timing to move his legs to the corresponding buttons.

“Hahaha!  You dummy!  Talkin’ hot shit when you ain’t shiiiiiit.”

Whether or not the shit talk that his attendant was throwing affected Whiskey’s performance was indeterminate.

Because Whiskey hit the next beat.

And the next.

And pretty much all of them after that.

He scored an A simply because he missed the first few at the beginning.

Neither Jello nor their Master Attendant said anything when the congratulations screen came on.

“Surprised?  Perhaps it was just you, Master Attendant~”

“W-wow Whiskey… y-you’re really good at that…”  Jello was in awe.

His attendant didn’t respond.  They simply averted their eyes, turned the other way and sulked.

“Upset?”  Whiskey smiled as he walked over to him, leaning over and peering at their face from the side.  “Don’t be upset, Master Attendant~.  We all have our shortcomings-”

“Oimma break yer glasses…” his attendant glowered.  “Break ‘em in half so you can’t see ‘n fall on yer face when ya get back on…”

“Now, now~, let’s not get aggressive.  Why not practice together?”

Whiskey, with his way of words, managed to coax his attendant back into playing the game with both him and Jello.

They left the arcade many hours later with his attendant screaming joyously about how they managed to get a higher score than Whiskey– despite pushing him off the stand at the very last minute when the gap between both of their scores got a little too close for their own comfort.


	15. Whiskey and picking out clothes for his attendant

anonymous  asked:

I've read about Whiskey's MA try to fit him in some clothings, but what if it's the other way around? (Simply put, what kind of clothing does Whiskey wants and prefers to see his MA in the most?) And thanks for answering the previous question, I enjoyed the short story💕

 

[Whiskey doesn’t have a preference in what his attendant wears.  To him, all that matters is his actual attendant.

But that doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s against shopping for clothes and picking out things for his attendant.  In fact, it’s almost a perfect way to balance out the shopping that the two of them did together the previous week.]

 

 

“Master Attendant, you seem to have a very limited wardrobe,” Whiskey mused as he strolled alongside his attendant.  The both of them was headed back to their shop in Helena after a long delivery to Nevras.  “Considering your expenditures on expanding the dress wear of your food souls, you don’t seem to have much variety in your own.”

“Ahaha!  Well, a chef’s uniform doesn’t change, that’s why.”  

“I’m quite surprised that despite Red Wine having such a strong opinion on one’s sense of fashion, that you have such a small range of clothing options.”  Whiskey’s eye caught a glimpse of a nearby cluster of stalls– all of which seem to sell clothes of some sort.  “The stores are nearby.  Care to take a look with me?”

“Ahaha!  That’s ok-”

“Considering how last week we went to shop for my attire… I say, this week is your turn, Master Attendant.”  Despite not being too uncomfortable or unhappy with how the last shopping session with his attendant went, he wasn’t about to let an opportunity for things to become balanced.  “We shopped for my clothes last week.  So this week, we’ll shop for your clothes.  It’s simply the law of equivalent exchange.  Perfectly balanced as all things should be.”

He chose to ignore the strange look that his attendant threw at him while he delighted in his victory in convincing his attendant to frequent the shops.

Whiskey’s motive was unclear, even to himself.

He made sure to carefully comb through the various racks of clothing, picking ones that he thought would compliment his attendant’s features, ones that he thought were a bit avant garde and ones that he thought were stage pieces as to how ridiculous they looked.

Had the shop attendant not stopped him, he would have gone into the fitting room to make sure that his attendant tried each and every piece he picked out for them.

“Whiskey, I’m not putting this on.”

“Hehehe… of course you are~.”  Whiskey simply resorted to standing immediately outside of the changing room door despite the shop attendant telling him to wait outside like other companions.  “Why, I chose that one specifically with you in mind~.  Just how you chose those other outfits for me~.”

“But-!”

“Then I won’t wear what you picked out anymore.”

“I can live with that.”

His attendant was quite the stubborn one.  He didn’t want to use his largest bargaining chip this soon; however, the situation was dire.

“I’ll stop the ‘plotting’, as you call it, with Spaghetti and Bloody Mary AND leave Pizza alone for a week~.”

There was a pause of silence before a soft, angry muttering was heard from the room.

“What was that, my Master Attendant?”  Whiskey must have been sporting a smile on his face that was quite a contrast to his usually softer demeanor as passersby gave him moderately horrified and concerned glances.

The door swung open.

“My, how lovely you look~!”

Whiskey needed not hear the very long strings of descriptive words to understand the fury and humiliation that was elicited from the article of clothing he picked for them.  But quite honestly he didn’t understand the onslaught of anger directed towards him.

He truly believed that his attendant looked absolutely adorable in that pizza slice costume.

The way that their face was only visible through a poorly cut out oval shape in the otherwise large triangular costume truly encompassed the things that he found enjoyable in life.

“Stunning, Master Attendant.  Truly stunning-”  His words were cut short when his attendant decided to tackle him down to the floor.

While he managed to get off the ground with relative ease, he was greatly amused with how his attendant had to flail about and attempt to roll over due to the shape of the costume restricting limb mobility.

With the kindness of his heart, he decided to help them up.  Only to be promptly socked in the gut.

“H-Hehe-.  How mean of you, Master Attendant~.”

The string of curses that ensued would have put anyone to shame as his attendant stormed back into the fitting room to take off the outfit.

“Come out in another outfit!”  Whiskey prompted teasingly.

More cursing ensued.

“Worry not, I’ve chosen the other ones with your style and routine in mind.  The first one was admittedly a joke.”

He ultimately managed to convince his attendant to continue their dress up session after a moderate struggle.

“Hmm, looks quite good on you.  I enjoy the classical dress shirt with the more interesting patterns.  It suits your style.”

“Oh, that looks good on you too.  I admire how-”

“Ah, I like this one.  Stunning craftsmanship.”

“This one is cute.”

Despite being on what was most likely their seventeenth outfit that day, the two of them were enjoying themselves with the first outfit like water under the bridge.

That was until Whiskey messed up.

“Does this skirt make me look fat?”

Whiskey had resigned to sitting out in the common waiting area with others that were awaiting their partners trying on things in the fitting room.

The question drew multiple glances full of anxiety and projected concern his way.

“I think it accentuates your body shape in a way that is very endearing.  It’s very cute on you.”  Whiskey smiled.

The more convoluted meaning must have completely went over his attendant’s head as they smiled and flailed the hem of their skirt around.

Whiskey took to examining the outfit.  As always, his attendant looked perfect in whatever outfit he had picked out for them.  It was hard to choose which one he preferred as whatever they chose to wear really didn’t matter to him.

What was curious about this outfit was the lack of fabric underneath parts of the skirt.  He thought that he picked out a pair of shorts or something to go underneath.

And proceeded to lift the hem of the skirt up.  Completely up.

There was screaming in the background that ensued, but Whiskey was mentally occupied with the fashion of skirts and how they are worn.

“Oh?  Are undergarments the only article worn underneath skirts?   Then I should have chosen out some undergarments for you too-”

Looking back, Whiskey should have realized why his attendant decided to back hand him across the face.

Their shopping session ended very shortly after.

The two of them came back to Helena with red cheeks– albeit due to different causes and in different patterns across the face.


	16. Whiskey and Abandonment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self-ask:
> 
> Short Story Request:   
> What is / How would Whiskey react to being left alone by his Master Attendant? (Inspired from his line: "No matter what happens, I'll always be by your side. So.......do you understand? You can't leave this place Master Attendant. You. Can't. Leave. Me.")

“Master Attendant?”

Whiskey knew that something was awry when he didn’t awaken to the smell of charred eggs and the frantic screaming of a panicked chef.

His attendant was not in their bedroom.

It was strange considering that there was no indication that they had begun their cooking misadventures yet.  Perhaps they had just started a late morning and was now beginning to haphazardly experiment with new dishes in the kitchen.

Yet they weren’t there either.

There was nothing aside from Ume and Pancake occupied with cooking heaps of fruit tea and cappuccino.

Perhaps they were in the restaurant’s dining area.

The restaurant, opened and filled with customers, was devoid of his attendant.

Everyone was in the house occupied with some task.  His attendant would typically take someone to go do grocery rounds with them as to not break their arms carrying heaps of ingredients on their own.  It was a strange thing, but Whiskey considered the prospect of them running out to market to explore new findings and not bother someone to tag along.

As such, he went out to check the marketplace next.

He went to inquire, but to no avail.  None of the stall managers saw a glimpse of them.

A delivery?

Whiskey checked the garage to see all three bikes lined up there unused.

He went to check their bedroom again.

Admittedly, he began to get a little flustered in his search expanded to more bizarre places.

He peeked into their closet to find that they were not there.  He wanted to check just in case they decided to reorganize their closet or something like that.

His sense of propriety abandoned him at some point, as he proceeded to open every single door to every single room in the house, leaving none untouched.  

 

Had he not been so occupied with his sole intent on finding his attendant, he would have spent some time musing on how this was the first time he broke into Pizza’s room and did not kidnap said food soul for the purpose of experimentation.  He was occupied with more pressing matters, after all.

The bathrooms were not left unchecked.  Whiskey in due diligence, wanted every single spot covered and the motion of knocking and inquiring instead of breaking down the entire door had forsaken him.  Likewise, had he not been so occupied with trying to find his attendant, he would have left a nice comment on the abilities of Cassata’s vocal range-- his voice went up at least an octave when Whiskey broke down the stall door to reveal the food soul in the middle of doing his business.

Whiskey looked under beds, in bookshelves, cabinets, clothing racks, the oven, and literally any possible place that they could potentially be despite how illogical that they would be there.

“Are you looking for something?”

Whiskey didn’t even hear the cross voice ask him the question at first.  He was far too busy looking between the forks of the silverware drawer.

“Whiskey.”

It wasn’t until he felt a hand grab at his shoulder

“Master Attendant-?!”

Whiskey turned around eagerly with a wide smile and bright eyes.

His smile and happier expression dropped completely off of his face at the sight of a concerned Brownie and a cross Black Tea.

Whiskey saw the sudden reluctance, fear even, that ran across their face when he turned around in their direction.

He had forgotten to smile.

Too caught up in his own mental expectations to see his attendant upon turning around, the sheer disappointment of seeing otherwise made him completely drop out of his character.

He hoped that it wasn’t too late to make a recovery from such an error and gave them a very conscious effort at a smile.

If possible, that only made things worse.

“W-were you looking for something?”  Brownie was the first to make an inquiry.

“I am.  Why-?” He quickly realized the reasoning for the question once he caught a glimpse of the house in complete disarray.  “Ah. My bad.”

Receiving looks of disappointment was not something new for Whiskey, but it was a different sensation coming from these two food souls in which he had barely interacted with before.

“My most sincere apologies.  I shall clean it up as soon as I am finished, worry not.”  Whiskey proceeded to continue looking through the drawer.

“What is your objective, might I ask?” Black Tea inquired quaintly.

“Our Master Attendant.  Have you seen them? I can’t seem to find them anywhere.”

“W-what?” the two food souls stammered their surprise, but gave him no answer as they stared at him in a combination of shock and horror.

“Pray tell, how can you possibly find our attendant in the silverware drawer?  Have you lost your mind, Whiskey?”

While Brownie and Black Tea held no answers for him, he was certain that the newcomer to the conversation would give him some lead on his objective.

“Hello there, Spaghetti.”  Whiskey dropped the last knife back into the drawer and slid it shut before turning himself about and meeting eyes with Spaghetti with a smile on his face.  “I haven’t been able to find our Master Attendant anywhere today. Admittedly, I got a little frantic. Have you any clue?”

“You haven’t heard?”  The food soul raised an eyebrow.  “Ah, but then again I could see how you’ve missed it if they forgot to tell you and everyone assumed that you knew.”  Spaghetti glanced around at the disarray of the kitchen. “Our attendant is in Nevras as part of a long-term culinary course.”

Whiskey adjusted his glasses and returned the answer with a quaint a smile.  “You have my gratitude. I shall be going to Nevras then-”

“You can’t.”

Whiskey stopped in his tracks and sent a glance in Spaghetti’s direction.  “Oh? And why not?” The day’s events and the news of his attendant’s absence had taken a toll on him mentally.  Any facade that he would typically put up in an attempt to appear amicable to others was completely nonexistent at this point.

“What’s gotten into you?”  Spaghetti didn’t overlook the disparity in Whiskey’s tone.  “They’re boarding there for six months with other attendants.  Food souls are not permitted to be there with them.”

“I told them that I would always be by their side no matter what happens.  They. Can’t. Leave. Me.” The last few words came out with heavy emphasis.  Whiskey fiddled with his glove in irritation.

“Our attendant had been specifically told that they couldn’t bring us along.”  Spaghetti gave a smirk as he lifted his giant fork from his shoulder and pointed it directly at Whiskey.  “What makes you think that a commoner like you can go?”

“Hehe~...  You think that you can stop me?”  Whiskey lifted a lazy hand as spires of sparkling gold and shining crimson shone about his arm.  He wasn’t expecting to ever have a physical confrontation with Spaghetti as there was rarely anything to disagree upon, but the moment that they were finally at odds was something exhilarating to him.  “Let this... mere pawn show you how powerful a single chess piece can be when played right.”

Had he not been so occupied with his conversation with Spaghetti, he would have noticed Brownie and Black Tea disappearing to gather support.

Whiskey should have been more quick to take down Spaghetti before the other food souls arrived for support.

His magic abilities and ranged magic made him a difficult foe to get into a confrontation with; however, he was not as adept at physical combat as the other food souls.

He recalled seeing a fiery foot of scarlet flames aimed at his face and a “sorry!” from Mapo Tofu before he awoke a couple days later in the ice arena still moderately bruised up.

At the very least it was a couple of days where he did not have to agonize over being apart from his attendant.  It was something that he wished he could have experienced for a longer duration upon his rediscovery how truly painful it was for him to not be at their side.

 

“Day… Ten…”

Whiskey was carving out the third tally into the wall of his room.  Thankfully there was a nice painting in the room that could cover up the tally marks when he was done.

Was it only the tenth day?

Whiskey ran his fingers over the nine tally marks that he had carved out yesterday and the day before to make up for the days that he was unconscious.  There was no way that only ten days had passed since he last saw his attendant. While he was only awake for two, it truly felt like an eternity had befell upon him.

Did his attendant forgot that they couldn’t leave him like this?  He explicitly told them upon their pledge. It was called a Lifelong Pledge for good reason.  He was meant to be by their side no matter what. As such, he should be there with them now.

Ah, he missed their cooking already.  It was so bad when they first started.  The braised lamb dish was more chunks of charcoal and it truly did resemble comical dark cuisines.  It was now one of the dishes that they specialized in; it was a rank of the “A” caliber due to his attendant’s continual cooking of the dish and mass feeding it to him until they randomly popped the question at around the hundredth dish.

Whiskey scoffed at the concept of a lifelong pledge; he was happy to have signed it nevertheless, but he didn’t understand the concept.

After all, their bond was beyond the time of a single lifetime.

Even when he had met and lost them the first time, the days didn’t seem to be this long.  He wouldn’t dare make say that they weren’t long, but it didn’t even feel this long-- and it was only ten days that had passed instead of several decades.  Was it perhaps that he finally was able to meet them the second time as his attendant that it all seems the more excruciating when they leave?

He must have not been paying attention to his tally mark since he tore a giant hole through the room and was hearing Yellow Wine scream bloody murder at a knife in the wall.  He’ll patch it up later.

 

Regardless of how long he could occupy himself with making tally marks in the wall, there was actually nothing to satiate him.  Nothing to distract him from his depression.

He had gone through all of his notes and books at least thirty times by now, and could recite ten theories on resurrecting the dead in his sleep.  Whiskey could pretty much recite all of his literary possessions by memory as well as read upside down text, reflected text and text blurred beyond comprehension by the damage of tears, blood and ink.

He mused and lamented over the lack of new material to occupy his mind with when he suddenly came to a realization of oversight that made him wallow in self-embarrassment  Their house has a library.

Whiskey might as well color his hair blonde, act happy-go-lucky and carry a flag around; that was the extent of idiocy he felt.

 

Whiskey opened the doors to the library and found Milk Tea silently reading there.  She gave him a quaint smile and a gentle wave of her hand; he returned the greeting and made his way around the innumerable bookshelves.

He wandered through the sections detailing science and alchemy to find himself already have read most if not all of them; he laughed to himself upon seeing a couple of books in which he authored himself under an alias.

The books on psychology and sociology intrigued him greatly as he stowed away a few notes on the psychology of sociopaths and psychopaths and the means of manipulating the masses.  Murder mysteries, fictional and non-fictional, amused him greatly.

Before long, he already found himself having read most if not all the books in the library despite his lack of interest in them.  Unfortunately, the tally marks behind the painting in his room had only incremented by few.

He stared dejectedly over the final bookcase left in the library which he had not touched or looked at yet.  He glanced over the titles printed on the spines of the books before coming to stop at one particular section of books.  The print he would recognize anywhere; it was the handwriting of his attendant.

The oak shelf harbored at least a dozen of handcrafted covers and books of his attendant’s writing-- cooking recipes, delusional musings, interesting stories about pairing food souls together in a more than friendly relationship, and so much more.

Whiskey was unaware of how long he had spent in the library reading through their work.

Nor was he aware of the dull headache that was lingering in his skull.

Was the headache due to the interesting story of him and Spaghetti trying to revive Spaghetti’s “limp noodle” after that fine al dente was all but lost in a horrible overcooking incident?  Or was the headache due to his unconscious slamming of his own head against the wall as the sight of his attendant’s writing was enough of a reminder to pull him into a state of insane grieving once more?

Whiskey must have not been paying attention, but Milk Tea came over to him and placed a gentle hand before he could make any further attempt to maim himself.

“Ah, I apologize.  Was I bothering your reading?”  Whiskey glanced over at Milk Tea before shutting teh 

“You shouldn’t do that, Whiskey.  They’ll come back soon, don’t worry.”  Milk Tea gently cast her healing on him.  The battered and bleeding skin pieced itself back together as the purple and red splotches began to disappear.

How Milk Tea knew the cause of his outburst was beyond him.  The food soul had 

“It’s too bad that you can’t heal his craziness.”  a voice scoffed. Whiskey didn’t realize that there was another in the room.  He recognized the tone of voice and a glimpse to the side revealed his suspicions.

“Hello there, Boston Lobster.”  Whiskey stood up straight as he gave a gentle smile for Milk Tea.  “Thank you.” Despite wishing to be polite in Milk Tea’s presence out of respect and gratitude for her, he was finding himself at a lower tolerance for the hot-blooded food soul in the room with them.

“I heard you were crazy, but I didn’t expect...” Boston Lobster gestured a waving motion as he scrutinized Whiskey in mild disgust.  “... didn’t expect this crazy…”

“Surely you must feel some amount of misery at our attendant’s absence.”  Whiskey was unable to find out why he bothered to reason with the unreasonable food soul he had the displeasure of holding a conversation with at the moment.

“They’re only gone to improve upon their cooking skills.  It could always use some improvement.” Boston Lobster scoffed.  Whether that tone of voice and language was part of the food soul’s personality or part of the critique of his attendant’s cooking skills, it was unknown.  What was known was that Whiskey was beyond irked at the moment.

That sentence had a strange correlation with his attendant’s departure to the Nevras academy.

Whiskey, typically the one to not draw causation between loosely related strings of correlation, immediately drew the correlation between Boston Lobster’s words and his attendant’s departure from him.

“Hehe…”  His laugh was admittedly more revealing of his more psychotic nature than he would typically allow for.  But at this point, the triviality of having filters was quite irrelevant-- especially to someone who was soon to be dead.    Whiskey slid his jacket off of his shoulders and placed it on a nearby chair; he made a mental note to apologize to Milk Tea later for destroying the library and for staining the books with blood.  “So it was you…”

“What?”  Boston Lobster had a look that was a cross of confusion and annoyance.

“Our attendant’s cooking has been fine.  No…My attendant’s cooking…” he corrected.  Whiskey’s smile vanished completely from his face.  “Why would they have any need to improve on their cooking when it was completely fine as it was?”

Magic of a deep red began to appear and float about Whiskey as golden runs rose from the black circles of incantations printed out on the ground beneath his feet.

“Oho, I’ve been wanting to fight you one on one.”  Boston Lobster chuckled as he took a more aggressive stance in preparation for Whiskey’s attack.  “Bring it on, you psychopathic bastard!”

Whiskey and Boston fared off for a good exchange with Whiskey able to land a few blows on Boston with a good amount of damage being dealt to himself.  He made certain this time that no one would come to interject his intent to slaughter the food soul before him.

“IF I REMEMBER-”  Boston Lobster dodged the spire of pure red magic exploding in front of him.  “YOU WERE THE ONE THAT MADE THE COMMENT ON EXPECTING OUR ATTENDANT’S FOOD TO LOOK LIKE DARK CUISINE-!”

That comment had brought around a rather interesting revelation.

Whiskey ceased attack completely as he simply stood there blank-faced processing the information.  Boston Lobster stopped midway as well to look at him in visible confusion.

He hastily went to pick up his jacket, muttered a rather empty sounding apology to Boston Lobster and Milk Tea before heading out to the forest where the other food souls found him a few hours later -- unconscious and severely wounded after using his skill of equivalent exchange to destroy an entire mountain at the expense of his own physical wellbeing.

Whiskey woke up a week later lamenting to himself that he could have caused his attendant to go on to Nevras and the fact that he was not unconscious for a longer period of time.

Had Brownie and Black Tea not placed him under house arrest, he would have done off to destroy the entire mountain range.

 

He took to the advice of someone-- he forgot who-- saying that he could simply engage in the things that he used to enjoy.

As such, he took to looking for his favorite food soul.

 

“Even when I experiment on you…  It feels so empty…”

“WHISKEY!!!”

Whiskey sighed as he continued to paint little white x’s on Pizza’s limbs.  “If our master attendant was here, they’d be bursting in the door telling me to let you go…”  He started to prime the little syringes with a blue liquid. “I get to experiment on you… for their sake… uninterrupted…  they’d never know...”

“WHISKEY, YOU BASTARD!”

Whiskey sighed again.  “Scream all you like, Pizza.  Our attendant isn’t here to stop me and save you.  I won’t even bother gagging you this time.”

“Whiskey!  Let Pizza go!”

Another sigh.  “Ah, Cassata. How nice of you to come.”

He was always prepared to intercept Cheese and Cassata if they came to Pizza’s rescue; quite honestly it was just his attendant that he can’t refuse demands for.

He made sure that Cassata was bound and secured in the corner of his room before attempting to get to work.

Whiskey wasn’t sure why he was more talkative in his session with Pizza today.

“What if they’re not coming back?  What if they’re just destined to keep leaving me like this?  What is the purpose of all of this then?” He stared at the notebook that he had scribbled his research into before letting it fall out of his hands and onto the ground.  The concerned look that both Pizza and Cassata were giving him was making him quite uncomfortable.

Whiskey undid the binds on the food soul’s limbs.  It was a shame to let the food soul go. They rarely got around to the point of painting x’s on Pizza; his attendant would typically catch him red-handed at getting Pizza onto the table after tying him up.

“Go.  This is pointless.”

He watched with bored eyes how Pizza hastily attempted to untie Cassata before Whiskey got impatient and went in to untie Cassata himself.  Even staring at their disappearing figures as they ran out of his room invoked no feelings-- no twisted, sadistic joy at seeing his favorite lab rat run off temporarily nor the childish glee of having his attendant personally visit him to scold him for experimenting on other food souls.

Nothing was the same without his attendant.

How interesting since before he was summoned, the time they had apart didn’t have an effect on him.

To have him regress into such a state was quite disheartening.

But it was nothing that being with them can’t solve.

 

“I’m going to Nevras.”

“You’re not going to Nevras.”

“I have to go to Nevras.”

“We’ve been over this, Whiskey-”

“I will perish if I am not by their side.”  Whiskey attempted to pry Steak off of him as he fended off Red Wine and Gingerbread’s arguments.

“It’s not going to be good for them, you know~!  You wouldn’t want that, right?” That was a familiar voice.  Whiskey turned around to see Bloody Mary standing in the doorway.

“Even you as well, Bloody Mary?”  Whiskey looked on, displeased.

“Food souls aren’t allowed there, after all.  You’ll simply put them in an awkward situation~,” Mary replied nonchalantly.

“So be it,” Whiskey sighed.  “Pretzel! Mary’s out for Steak’s blood again!”  Whiskey announced as loudly as he could. Immediately he heard the thundering of footsteps as an angry Pretzel appeared at the end of the hall.

“BLOODY MARY!”

“WHISKEY, HOW COULD YOU?!”

“In all fairness, you called off this alliance first.”  Whiskey continued on his way to the door-- Steak dutifully hanging onto his leg acting as an anchor.  “And unlike the rest of you. I have no patience for this. I will not wait any longer.”

“I’m disappointed.”  The presence of yet another voice was beginning to irk Whiskey into a state of insanity that he knew not existed up till this point.  Today would be a day that Whiskey would lose it and murder any single food soul indiscrimately if they were to interject again.

“If my actions are contingent upon your opinions of me, you are clearly mistaken.”  Whiskey turned around to meet eyes with one of the last food souls in this house that he had a somewhat respectable opinion of-- Spaghetti.

Neither he nor the red headed food soul had anything else to say to one another.  Rather, there was nothing to be said vocally. The conversation between the two sufficed with the mutual exchange of eye contact holding nothing but disappointment and annoyance.

The brief moments of time that had passed was better perceived as an eternity as the two food souls glowered at one another while the bystanders awkwardly look on.

The looming pressure of discomfort and silent conversation between Whiskey and Spaghetti was abruptly interrupted by the creaking of the door handle and the sound of an opening door which rung thunderously in the otherwise silent house.

“I’m home!  A little bit early, but hey!  Good to see everyone again!” the all-too-missed chirpy voice was liberating of the intense gloom that was present moments before.

“Master Attendant, welcome back.”  Brownie, who had been standing at the doorway as a means of preventing Whiskey from leaving, turned immediately around to greet their master attendant.

“I’m back~!”

“Master Attendant~!”  The younger food souls came bustling into the parlor at the sound of their attendant’s voice.  Everyone came trickling in one by one.

It was a happy scene unfolding before him.

His attendant, still dressed in travel wear with luggage at their side, greeted everyone with hugs and kisses as sweet words of reunion were exchanged.

Ah.  His attendant was back.  They were finally back.

There was an onslaught of emotions that came over him, though it didn’t show on his face.

He did not know what came over him.  He suddenly felt… tired.

So instead of heading over to greet his attendant and make up for the last several months that they were apart, he recluded back to his room, much to the shock and surprise of the food souls that had caught sight of him.

His attendant was back.

There was no need to go to Nevras to get them back anymore.

The crushing weight of emptiness inside of him lifted away to leave him exhausted and just as hollow as he was before.

With the curtains pulled and doors shut, he hid himself under the covers and drifted aimlessly off to a void of aimless slumber.

 

Whiskey drifted about the unconscious void without direction.  Calm and undisturbed was the surrealistic water he drifted upon.  It went on forever in all dimensions-- time, space and beyond-- as far as the eye could see and the mind could process.

And then there was a ripple.

He felt a gentle touch on his head.  The faint aroma of red wine and lamb wafted about him.

A voice, smooth and mellow, echoed about him.  “Mornin’, Whiskey.”

He saw a soft light before he actually opened his eyes to see the smiling face of his most beloved attendant in front of him.

“Master Attendant-”  Whiskey smiled as he met their eyes.  “I had quite a strange dream,” he began.  “It was a dream in which you had left me.”

“Whiskey, I’m-”

“It was a dream because you wouldn’t actually leave me right?”  Whiskey interjected before he could hear anything else. “Because I promised you that I’d always be by your side no matter what happens.  So there’s actually no way that you would leave me. Because you can’t leave me, Master Attendant.” Whiskey smiled. Whether that smile was to convincingly lie to his attendant or to himself, he did not know.

His attendant look on sympathetically as they continued to stroke his head in a reassuring manner-- almost as if to disperse the nightmare which had been haunting him in his dreams.  “I am happy to wake and see you first thing,” he whispered sleepily.

“I’m here, Whiskey.”  Those words fulfilled a strange need within him as Whiskey let out a sigh of pure content.  He happily craned his head further against his attendant’s gentle hand as he drifted off to sleep once more.

 

He woke to complete normalcy.

The household acted and functioned as normal.  Everyone behaved as per usual. Any indication of separation between his attendant and everyone for an extended period of time was naught.

Spaghetti and Boston Lobster did indeed act a little awkward around him, but he couldn’t figure out the reasoning.  Bloody Mary was moody around him, acting mad before looking as though he remembered something and acting as per usual.  He often felt gazes on him and would occasionally catch a food soul staring at him with sad eyes. But their excuse was either about something that they were staring at in the background or something that they found interesting about his earring, facial marking, etc.  

The library was under repair for some odd reason, but he had never gone to the library for anything so perhaps he missed the reasoning behind it.  He almost recalled that there was supposed to be a mountain in the forest behind their house, but a mountain being there seemed out of place; perhaps it was but something he construed from his imagination.

Everything that he had dreamt of was blurring and fading from his memory as part of a delusional nightmare that he once had.

The insanity that had taken hold of him was but a mere dream slowly being buried away from his conscious mind.

But as to whether those tally marks that he had derangedly carved out in his room were truly there, he had no intent of moving the painting on the wall to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I wanted to write about Whiskey and potential mental health issues in terms of abandonment among other topics which are close to my own heart.  
> While I didn’t know how to make this into a one-shot, I felt that it matched well with how some of my recent writings and asks have been going.  
> Did you know you can ask yourself stuff? Hehe~. So I submitted this as an ask in similar format to how a lot of my asks in the box have been submitted. It’s been awhile since I wrote a more angsty piece, and this is one of my favorite genres to write-- if you can’t tell by the length and the fact that I reread and proofread this for once.  
> I hope you enjoy.]


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